


Always Together

by sensiblekitty



Series: Isco/Morata oneshots [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Not Beta Read, spain nt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensiblekitty/pseuds/sensiblekitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the InterxJuve match for Coppa Italia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that came up after chatting with my dear friend Niki on Tumblr after last week's match, plus listening to (sad) long-distance relationship songs. I intended on posting a few days ago, but I just finished now...I have no idea on how it turned out though.  
> Anyway, I'm posting this new Morisco oneshot as part of the fulfillment for a silly promise I have made lol. I know the fandom is gone (and that I have written about other Isco and Álvaro pairings), but I'm still a Morisco fan at heart, and probably will always be, so I'll keep posting stories about them, even if just a few people read them. :)

All Álvaro wanted that night was to isolate himself. Turning off his laptop, his phone and anything that could connect him with the world, he laid with his face down, with a pair of pillows covering his head. As much as he wanted to forget about that night, he couldn't avoid recalling each failed pass, each lost ball, each wasted chance to score. Despite scoring the penalty and helping with taking the team to the final of the Coppa Italia, he couldn't forget the look of shame and disappointment exchanged among the players and coach either. The fans, in addition, also raged on the internet, even criticizing him and his friend and teammate Simone for not showing their good interaction on the pitch. He had enough for the night. Luck was on their side this time, but he was aware that next time, it wouldn't be enough, and their strength on the pitch as a team would be crucial. 

Beep. Beeeep. Beeeeeeepppppp. The irritating noise of the ringing landline phone brought him back to his surroundings, reminding him of the rarely used equipment's existence. He left the bed and head to the door to get the call, but the sound has stopped shortly after. It was probably someone who called the number by mistake or one of those annoying telemarketing sellers, nobody he knew, as just a few people had that number: his family and closest friends, and they were aware of Álvaro's preference of being alone on bad days. 

Beep. Beeeep. Beeeeeeepppppp. Beeeeeeepppppp. Fuck! What an insistent person. He threw his pillows aside and stood up from bed, leaving the room in grunts and dashing across the corridor, where the telephone rested over a small table, continuously ringing aloud. 

He picked the phone and hastily shouted, “You have called the wrong number!”

Putting the phone away, he was about to place the phone back to the charger, when he heard the person call his name. “Álvaro?”

“Isco.” Álvaro sighed as he recognized the voice. Out of all the people from his close circle, the La Roja teammate was the last with whom he wanted to talk. “I'm not okay to chat with anyone right now. I thought you'd know.”

“Wait, Álvi, I know, but please, don’t hang up. I have tried contacting you from every resource, but you haven't answered to any of them. Calling your landline number was my last attempt before taking a flight to come see you.”

Those words made the striker chuckle. They had this dynamic of travelling back and forth from Spain to Italy and vice-versa whenever they were on trouble, but it wouldn't be possible at the moment; each one of them had a strict schedule to follow. "Don't be silly, there is no way we can meet," he said, his voice acquiring a serious tone again. "Anyway, if you are you calling to talk about my failing performance, you are losing your time, because I am not in the mood to listen.”

“No, I'm not calling to give you sermons; on the opposite, I want to congratulate you for making it to the final and also for scoring that penalty.”

“Well, that was the least I could do after such a shaming match.”

“You did your best within the limitations of the game, of your whole team’s performance.”

“Yeah, but my effort wasn’t enough. It never is.”

“Please, don’t say it, don't put yourself down. I watch every single match you play and I acknowledge your effort on the pitch.”

“Which match are you referring to? You judge it from the few minutes I play. Too bad that after today, you'll see less and less of me on the pitch.”

“Don’t talk bullshit.”

“But that’s the sad reality. You know what I'm talking about. If I keep screwing up on the pitch and wasting the chances my coach gives...”

“Pssst, don’t finish!" Isco hissed. "I forbid you to finish that fucking sentence.”

"You don't have any right to call me at this time of the night and give me order."

"I am your friend; we are almost like brothers, so I have the right, yes," the tone in the midfielder's voice scared Álvaro; most times, Isco just used his bluntness when they argued, rarely showing anger like he was doing on the phone. "Now you are going to listen to me, Álvaro Morata; afterwards, you have all the right to hang the phone up on my face."

"Do I have another choice?" Álvaro sighed. "You won't leave me alone even if I hung up right now."

"You would see me stand by your house the next day, shouting out your name until you opened the door."

It would be nonsense if that hypothetical situation happened. Álvaro let out a small snort as he created a whole scene in his head: Isco knocking on the door, screaming his name and catching the attention of all the neighbors, while he stays on his bed, with a pile of blankets fully covering him. At the same time, by no means would he let the midfielder stand outside; in the end, they would have the same conversation, but in person. He shook his head at the idea and returned to reality. 

"Hey, Álvarito, are you sill listening?"

"Sorry, I divagated a bit here, but I'm listening now." 

A deep breath came from the other side. Álvaro knew that Isco had all the reasons to be done with him, but still had the patience to repeat his speech; his willingness to be there for him just increased the admiration he nurtured for the shorter man over the years. The striker wouldn't listen to anyone at that moment, but with Isco it was different. The teammate understood him.

"I was just telling you not to be harsh on yourself. You are an amazing striker and our national team needs you." Pause. "Therefore, make us a favor: trust your fucking self. Screw your doubts and score the fucking goals, so that when the time comes, Del Bosque will call you."

"As if it is easy," Álvaro replied. He was tired of hearing those cheesy self-help motivation quotes. "Juve has Mandzukic, Dybala, Zaza. They are much better than I am as a striker. I don't have capacity to score as much as they do."

"Shut up. You are as good as them; just you don't see how talented you are."

"Allegri has a point when he leaves me benched."

"He might have a point given your current performances, but I'm sure he sees potential in you and believes it is just a temporary phase; otherwise, he wouldn't have given you chances to be on the starting eleven."

"Chance that I have wasted today."

"It wasn't your day, but other chances will come; whether you decide to take them from now on, is up to you."

"It's not. I have done my best already. Maybe my fate is to be benched and just play in the last ten minutes of game."

A groan from the other line was what Álvaro heard. Shit, he got his friend mad. 

"Stop pitying yourself! Where's that player who has kicked Real Madrid's ass at the past Champions League and scored two times? Who also netted the goal against Barça?"

Gulping hard, the madrileño stammered as he couldn't find any argument to go against Isco's, "y-you're saying all confident speech because you have scored today!"

"I have been benched the whole match and just had the luck to be in the right position and to kick the ball right on the target after just a few minutes of playing."

"You had luck on your favor, and that magic inside you."

"Hahaha, you always say it, but I assure you that I'm a mere human and I have no power whatsoever. What you call magic I call confidence that everything will work out, even when things don't work as I plan, even when the fucking press throw bad comments about my performances, even when fans whistle on me. Even when I doubt my abilities."

Álvaro knew what Isco was talking about. He has also been watching Isco's match performances and noted that the shorter man wasn't at his best fit either, but the difference between them is that Isco always put up that strong front, while he was just blaming and pitying himself. 

"If only I had a tiny bit of it."

"But you have! You have showed it on the pitch several times; you just have to trust your guts."

"You sound like those cheap books of self-help."

"Well, I'm seriously considering writing a book about 'how to lift the mood of insecure footballers'."

"Pfft," Álvaro snorted. Just Isco had this power of making him feel better even in bad moments. "And I'll be your first reader."

The two men bursted into laughter as they talked about the details of Isco's imaginary book, and Álvaro didn't remember when was the last time he has laughed that much. It was incredible how Isco had that influence over him.

"Well, Álvaro. That's all I have to say," Isco commented, after he stopped laughing. "If you want to hang up, you are free."

"Don't be fool." Álvaro paused, before adding, "You made me smile today, and I appreciate your words. Thanks for calling me even though I have pushed you aside."

"You're welcome, tío. I love making you smile."

An awkward pause installed in their conversation. It's that type of silence that happens when one knows the talk is close to the end, but isn't sure on whether to continue talking or finish the call. 

"It has been quite a while since we last talked, hasn't it?" Álvaro commented, choosing to keep going with the call, because as much torn and overwhelmed as he was, it was always a pleasure to chat with him. 

"Yeah, we need to talk more. I miss our conversations."

"I miss you as a whole," Álvaro confessed, his voice choked by emotions, finally getting out of his chest something he meant to say for months. 

The lack of response on the other side of the line worried the striker. Has he said anything wrong? Perhaps, he has been too needy, too corny or...

"I thought you have forgotten about me with that Zaza and that Dybala around," Isco eventually talked, after the brief moment of silence, cutting out Álvaro's mental rumination. 

"Are you jealous?"

"I can't avoid being jealous, because I don't want to lose my spot in your heart."

"Aww, drama queen, don't worry. Your spot in my heart is irreplaceable."

"It better be, Álvarito. It better be!" 

Thereafter, the two men promised to keep in touch with each other and to rebuild their friendship, and Álvaro hung up the phone with a wide grin on his face. That's Isco's power over him: to lift the weight off his shoulders and to give him hope. 

* * *

A few days later, after arriving from training, Álvaro received a small package coming from Madrid. Raising his eyebrows, he turned the small box and his eyes shone when he read "Isco Alarcon" as the sender name. Eager to see what his beloved friend has sent, he clumsily unwrapped the package, taking a plastic bubble from inside. Then, unfolding the plastic, he found photos of them, printed in a small resolution, as well as a sheet of paper.

_"Dear Álvarito,_

_I know it's not much, but here's my 'luck charm' for your matches. I made the photos small so you can always carry with you. Whenever you feel like you are losing yourself, please, remember me and our dreams. At the back of the photos, there are a few words of inspiration. I'm not a self-help author (yet *laughs*), but I hope to boost your mood. Anyway, I suck at writing and I have to go now. I love you so much, Álvi, and I have faith that you will get back to the top._

_Love,_

_Your Isco."_

Álvaro was fighting hard to suppress the tears that insisted on falling from his eyes. Damn it, he was not the type to cry, but Isco...Always Isco, the only one who had this ability of giving him a range of emotions. With trembling hands, he turned the photos, reading the words scribbled with Isco's handwriting.

_Throwback to that match when we scored a goal together with La Rojita. ;3"_

The first photo was a celebration of their goal during a U21 match against Germany, where Álvaro has scored once and assisted Isco's goal. It wasn't their first goal together, but it was equally special. Two "not-really teenagers, but not adults either" smiling at each other in a tight hug, hope and passion reflected through their eyes, at a time they felt unbeatable and capable of anything, as if they had the worlds in their hands.

_"La Decima celebrations aka you wearing my jersey and we both jumping and screaming like crazy with all the guys. <3"_

Just looking at that photo brought him back memories of his times at Real Madrid, the time he has spent with Isco, their celebrations. La Decima itself was special, not only because it was the team's tenth Champions League trophy, nor because it was against Atlético either. It was because he and Isco had shared that unique moment together, as teammates, friends, brothers, whatever they called their bonds.

The third photo caught his attention, as it was from their first match together with La Roja. 

_"Two foolish dudes with a big dream *stars* *hearts* *trophy* *spain flag*"_

The fourth and last photo was a random selfie they have taken during their most recent meeting, where they made weird faces and didn't smile as much as in the previous pics.

_"Friends forever?"_

Still sobbing, Álvaro hastily dialed the midfielder's number, tapping his feet fast as he waited for the midfielder to get the phone call.

"You sure have the power to make me cry."

"You are welcome, Álvarito."

"What got into your mind, tío? Do you want to make me...us suffer with all these memories?"

"It is just my belated Valentine gift to you."

"You gotta be joking." Álvaro frowned, thankful that Isco didn't see his face, as for an instant, he believed the other man was serious.

"Of course it's a joke, tío. Amazing how you still fall for my pranks." The midfielder snorted aloud on the other side of the line.

"It's not fun!" The striker pouted. Besides making him smile and cry, Isco knew how to play with his feelings, and that always drove him mad. 

"Sorry, Álvarito, don't be mad with me, cariño," Isco said, clearing his throat and changing the tone in his voice. "That night, after we talked, I became quite nostalgic and searched for photos of us together, on the pitch, after matches, on celebrations, and the idea of making them into a size that allows you to carry on the pocket just hit me."

"You are so considerate. I don't deserve to have a friend like you, Isco."

"Man, stop being a diva. I just love making my friends smile."

"No, but seriously, thank you, bro. I love your gift and I'll always take these photos with me."

"That's my intention after all. We might be currently walking separate ways, but I want us to stay close together, even if just through photos," Isco declared, and the determination in his voice gave Álvaro a new motivation.

"Hopefully, our paths are crossing again for the Euro; therefore, we gotta give our best to meet for the competition."

"That's the Álvaro I know!" Isco praised, and the striker could imagine that the midfielder had that cheeky smile on his face. "Sure, giving our best is our commitment from here on."

"I will make sure to remember about it whenever I am on the pitch."

"Me too, I'll always carry my copy of our photoset and I hope both of us will succeed."

* * *

It was match day and Álvaro waited for the lineup. He wouldn't be surprised if he started on the bench as usual, it was the Mister's decision after all and he respected that, but he would be happy if he were included in the starting eleven. Taking one of the small photos from his pocket, the most recent selfie with Isco, the striker smiled brightly as he read the his message. When he enters the game, regardless of the minutes played, he is going to 'trust his guts', as the malagueño has said in the phone call, and who knows, something magical could happen, because they would always be together and because now he had a commitment to accomplish. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, if you like the story, I'll appreciate if you send a kudo. I know Morisco fans in general don't comment, so I just gave up on trying to communicate with most of you guys. It may not seem important for you, but a feedback means a lot to me, makes me think that the hours spent on writing were worth it.


End file.
